To Find & To Hold, To Know & To Love
by storywriter30
Summary: The third time that Tali is with both of her parents – she is almost four years old and she unaware. She is unaware of the anxiety that courses through their veins about the danger that they are causing her. Simply because they have both become weak.
1. I

_I. Talia DiNozzo is five years old. She has only been in the same city, let alone the same room as both her mother and father four times. This is the story of those moments. _

_Tali was, of course, there, in some way, when it all began. This, of course, acknowledges that the DiNozzo family, as they will someday be called, had their beginning written in the stars long before that morning in the farmhouse. _

* * *

The curtain above the bed blows in the light warm breeze that drifts off the orchard. "What would you do if I just stayed?" he asks.

"You cannot abandon, Gibbs." And the glow of the morning sun lights up her solemn face.

"You're more important than Gibbs," He plants his lips on her bare shoulder

"Tony…" she drawls.

He doesn't know if it's an admonishment of the statement or the trail his finger is making down her abdomen.

"You are. Don't ever forget that, Ziva." He props himself on his elbow. He stares at her. Her tousled hair. Her flushed cheeks. Her swollen lips. All from him – spending the better part of last night and yesterday proving to her how loved and precious she is. And yet, it hasn't erased the small storm in her eyes. The subtle combination of fear and sadness. "You'll always be the most important person in the world to me."

Ziva cups his cheek. She runs her thumb along the scruff that has grown from the stubble. "I cannot give you a good and loving me until I chase some of my own demons."

Tony takes her hand. He kisses her knuckles. "You know what's so hard about you?" He smirks.

She smirks back at him, coyly shaking her head. And for a second, it is a time years in the past. A hot summer night in her apartment.

"I have never loved _and_ respected someone as much as I do you. So when you ask me to let you do this – I … I don't know how to not respect that."

His words sober her. She can't help but lean up and kiss him. "I love you," she whispers against his lips.

He rolls back onto her, his fingers tracing the outline of those swollen lips, her brows, her matted hair. Her hand settles on his neck. His leg slip between hers and he reaches down, teasing her center and readying her for his entry.

"That," she gasps. "Could change my mind."

He laughs and kisses her open mouth. "Challenge accepted."


	2. II

_II. The next time they are together as a family – Tali is there in the flesh. Her parents – though they have yet to be in the same room as each other since acquiring such a distinguished title – are about to enter the most difficult three and a half years of their lives. All Tali knows is that the air in Cairo feels a lot more familiar than DC or Paris did. _

* * *

There is a note slipped under her door one dawn in early July. It contains only a hotel and a room number.

One of the most expensive hotels in Cairo, she thinks she is either walking into an ambush or he has found her.

She stops at the desk and asks several questions. She poses as a tourist who is lost and confused; she scans the lobby, but no one seems to be watching her; no one seems out of place.

Finally, she asks if her husband Jean-Paul Rainer has checked in. The woman checks the computer and smiles. She asks Ziva if she wants a key. Ziva declines and the woman points to the bank of elevators.

She clicks the gun from her ankle as the car ascends to the 31st floor.

She knocks several times. Her wraps becoming harder by the second. And then he opens. His gun leveled at her forehead.

"Are you alone?" she asks, pushing past him.

"Hey, yeah, nice to see you too." He retorts. He lowers his weapon.

Ziva turns on her heel and runs a frantic hand through her hair. "She is safe, yes? Where is she? Who is she with?"

Tony cocks his head to the bathroom. Ziva is quick to open the door and she finds Tali sitting on the floor, happily playing with her kalev and an undone roll of toilet paper.

"Ima!" she exclaims.

Ziva nearly collapses on the floor to be with her. "My love, I have missed you so much," She says, gathering the squirming toddler into her arms. "I am so glad you are safe." She kisses her head. She runs her hand down her hair. "I am so sorry. I am so sorry."

Ziva pulls the bewildered child from the ground and cradles her against her chest. She nearly bumps into Tony's looming frame.

"Forget about me?" He asks.

She stutters and he slinks away from the bathroom door. He stands by the windows. The pyramids loom not far in the distance.

"You must have," he continues. His voice rises "It's the only way you would have kept her from me, right? It's the only reason why Orli introduced me to my daughter two months ago."

She comes up behind him. Tali is perched on her hip. She has reached for the emerald necklace. "No and for that, I am deeply sorry."

He turns. "No?" He huffs. He begins to pace. "So what, Ziva, is she not mine or something? Because after nearly two months together – much of which was the two of us' traveling in ways that I never thought I'd do with a two year old – one I barely know, by the way – I've got to say, Ziva, I'm pretty sure she is my kid."

"She is very much your daughter."

"Then I had a fucking need to know, Ziva."

She nods at him and slowly sinks to the edge of one of the double beds. _He is right, of course._ Her grip on Tali tightens. _She was so very wrong_. Her eyes dart around the room. _So many times_. She wishes the windows could open. _Could all this have been avoided?_ There is no air in the room. _What has she done to Tali?_ The room begins to spin. _How will she get out of this?_ She pulls Tali even closer. _Tony will never forgive her_. Tali begins to cry.

And suddenly, he is kneeling before her.

Tony kisses the side of Tali's head and lays a timid hand on Ziva's shoulder. "Ziva."

Her breaths are ragged. He wants to take Tali. She shakes her head at him.

"Ziva, talk to me."

"I am having a panic attack." She snaps. Tears begin to fall from her eyes.

"I can see that." He is steady.

"It will pass." Her hands tremble against Tali's back. The little girl continues to wail.

"Can I help?"

"Pretend you do not hate me and sit beside me."

He is quick to pop off the ground and settle right against her. Tony wraps her in his arms. His hand finds hers on Tali and he holds on tight. "Is this what you meant?"

"Hoped."

He breathes with her for moments that feel like hours. He whispers to Tali. _It's okay_, he tells her. _Ima is okay_. _Abba is here_. He's got her. He's got them. His fingers twirl his little girl's hair. She begins to quiet as the rate of her mother's pulse returns to normal.

"I gave Tali to Adam Eschel in a market outside of Jerusalem." Ziva speaks for the first time in minutes. "He brought her to Orli and Orli, to you." She takes a ragged breath. "When I left her in the market with him – that was the first time I panicked. I have never felt that way."

He nods. He squeezes her shoulder. "I don't hate you."

"I do." Her head snaps to stare at him. Her eyes are clear again. "I hate myself. For staying in Israel. For not letting _you_ stay. For not calling you the second I found out I was pregnant. For letting it go on for so long."

"So why did you?" He asks.

She softens. "Perhaps I have been… _depressed_ … a lot longer than I wanted to admit." She shrugs at him and her eyes are heavy.

"When you left, I was momentarily inspired – inspired to figure myself out and come back to you." She smirks sadly. "I started to get certified to be a yoga teacher," She explains. "I became a mentor for young women in the IDF and then…" Her voice trails off.

Ziva takes a deep breath and shifts Tali to his lap. She kisses the now calm two year old's cheek.

Ziva begins to pace. "It was like I became paralyzed with guilt over everything that I had done and been a part of. And then I found out about Tali and …" She stops and shakes her head. "I told myself that you did not deserve that level complication."

"Not really your call to make, Ziva."

She nods. She knew it was coming. "I tried calling you, but could never get the courage up," She sits back down next to him and lowers her gaze and her voice. She is ashamed of this part. "And then I came as far actually," she pauses, because this part is big – "showing up at your apartment when I was six months pregnant, but there was some young blonde there who… I now realize was Eleanor."

"Wait… so you saw Ellie in my apartment in what… March of 2014?" He is bewildered at best.

She nods.

"And six-month pregnant Ziva just says… never mind and gets right back on a trans -Atlantic flight?"

"Yes." She confirms. "That is exactly what happened." Ziva stands again and paces before him. "Tony, I … I was not well. Even though I thought I was." She deflates and looks to the ceiling. "And then… after Tali was born – I spiraled and I called Abby." She shakes her head. "I did not tell her about Tali. I just… I just told her that I regretted everything and that I loved you." She stops before him and sags against the bureau. "She said you were happy. She said you were seeing your old partner and that it seemed like things were serious." Ziva quickly swipes at her eyes. "She asked me not to further complicate things. It was what the little voice inside me had been saying all along. I was too much for you. So I stayed away."

Tony is silent at this last bit of information and Ziva watches as he heavily swallows. She sees his thumb run down Tali's back.

"Abby told you that I was dating Zoe?" He confirms. "And asked you to – to – to stay away?"

"Yes."

"Um –" Tony wets his lips as his eyes dart around the room. "Zoe and I weren't serious. It was me trying to move on – to obviously recreate this magic. But… it didn't work. It didn't work because every time I looked at her – I wished she were you."

"Yes, well, Abby… thought otherwise."

"Ziva, I,"

She holds her hands up. "It is in the past."

"Except, you were alone with this little ball of perfection." He stands before her, Tali now mostly asleep in his arms. "I could have held her as a baby."

Ziva nods. "Perhaps I should not have listened to Abby, but I was just trying to survive."

"I'm sorry," he says.

"As am I." And the sense that passes between them could hold the weight of all the wrongs that they have ever committed towards each other.


	3. III

_III. The third time that Tali is with both of her parents – she is almost four years old and she unaware. She is unaware of the anxiety that courses through their veins about the danger that they are causing her. Simply because they have both become weak._

* * *

Tony is at the end of his once frayed, twice extended, three times replaced – rope. It has been almost two years since he has been in the same room as Ziva. Two years since they spent the night curled into each other, their perfect daughter sleeping soundly within their warmth. Two years since he saw the glitter in her eyes as Tali ran around the room. Two years since she told him she'd never gotten Tali to wear a band aide as the little girl marveled at the artwork now on her knee.

It has been two years since she told them that she would do everything in her power to return to them and give them the life they deserve. It has been two years since he held her in his arms and tasted her like he never would again.

In those two years, he has gone from a man who was caring for a toddler that he barely knew to the proud father of a wondrous small child.

Throughout these two years, his communication with Ziva has been sparse. They write coded emails to each other every other month. She tells him no details of the fight she is currently in – only that she is alive and that she is making progress. In turn, he provides updates, but, at her direction, no photos, of a young boy named Winston.

By the early spring of 2018, they are both becoming desperate. She is mixing her pronouns, calling Winston a she and using specifics that she would never dare to. Tony has repeatedly begged for a meeting, has continuously asked for more details and implored her to pull in reinforcements.

And so they decide to stage a viewing – for each other.

Tony takes Tali to Luxembourg. It is one of the few countries they have not visited in their years abroad. For two days they travel the city, seeing the sites, marveling at the old buildings and playing in the park. He knows she is there too, watching, waiting and wishing.

With that notion, there is some peace. _Some_ .

On their third day, just before their evening flight, Tony and Tali eat ice cream outside of a medieval castle turned children's museum. There is nothing this little girl loves more than adventuring with her father so the sugar in her strawberry ice cream only amplifies the bounce in her curls.

Tony pushes her on the swings and as they wined their way out of the accompanying green space, a woman, her face obscured by a baseball hat, bumps into Tali in just the slightest of ways. And as she does, she drops a piece of paper, apologizes in German and hands it to Tony, her hand lingering half a second longer than it should. He tells her – in Hebrew – to be more careful.

_Toda_ is all she says.

On the plane that night, he can't stop the tears from falling. Tali, now an expert traveler, falls asleep the moment the flight attendant secures the doors and so he is left with only his thoughts and the note stuffed in his back pocket. He stares at her words, the way they look so carefully crafted. He wonders how much thought she put into it – whether she contemplated ending with something other than, _never forget my love_.

She tells him she is heading back to the land of their beginning and maybe he should, too. Never one to ignore an invite, Tony gives notice on their Parisian lease the next day. He calls Senior and tells him to find him a realtor. They are coming to New York.


	4. IV

_The fourth time Tali is in the same room as her parents, there is a sense of finality. She is five years old. What was before has ended. Her parents, ever damaged, ever hesitant, do not call it a beginning. But it is. _

Tony does an admirable job of remaining calm for Tali as the heartbeat of whatever Ziva is dealing with picks up speed. He knows this, not because she tells him, but because he begins receiving strange phone calls and strange text messages.

First, he receives one from Gibbs. _Tony, hey. ..uh… we need to talk. Can you call me as soon as you get this? It's important._

Tony calls him back as soon as he puts Tali to bed, but Gibbs never answers. Three missed calls later, he finally hears from the man. Gibbs brushes it off as a question about an old case. Apologizes for the urgency. Says he was _stressed_. Tony pretends to understand. Tony pretends that statement from Gibbs is somewhere close to normal.

A week later, Palmer cancels their monthly Fortnite session. He says Victoria has the flu and he is not taking it well. Tony tells him he doesn't need to lie to him and Palmer never responds. If there is something coded in these text messages, Tony has not figured it out. Except for the fact that he already knows.

At Thanksgiving, Ellie calls him. She is upbeat and asks him what's new in his life. He tells her that Tali has learned to ride a bike, but that she prefers rollerblading. He tells her he just discovered how much curling irons hurt and then he turns the question back to her and she freezes. She spews several stories about her brothers that Tony knows to be a complete fabrication before ending the call.

He knows she is involved. And it reassures him, terrifies and intrigues him.

It doesn't escape him that the Probie has been remarkably normal throughout the last few months. Everyone else seems to be in a tailspin, but the Probie holds strong. He's come so far. He sends his normal weekend photos of Johnny and Morgan. Tony responds with some of Tali. Delilah occasionally sends notes of Tim's shenanigans. All seems normal.

And he convinces himself for just a little while that it is. He takes Tali to school. He shops for Christmas and Hanukkah. At night they make snowflakes and enjoy the early December flurries. They get a tree and pull out the menorah.

And then one night his phone rings. Tali has been asleep no more than ten minutes. He is getting a jump on wrapping – Die Hard playing on his screen.

It is a long number and he knows exactly who will be on the other end of it.

She doesn't wait for him to speak. "Tony?" the words spill out.

"Ziva," he breathes.

_Fit. Click. Lock. Turn. _

"I am sorry to do this," she says. And she is speaking so quickly. "Things are bad – Adam is dead – you need to take Tali somewhere."

Now, Tony had known and mostly accepted, for some time, that Ziva's _contact_ was Adam Eschel. He'd be lying if he said he loved the guy, but Ziva clearly trusted him and so Tony got over the fact that he was involved. He didn't like it. But he dealt with it.

"Ziva," he says, slowly – evenly. "Ziva, are you okay?"

"Tony, you are not listening." She says. "You need to take Tali underground."

"Ziva, I am listening to you. Adam is dead. Things are bad. Are you okay?" He spells that last question out for her slowly, methodically.

"_No_," she snaps and it cuts right through the both of them. "No – Adam is dead. He died for me, Tony. For _us_." And her voice cracks on the last word. "And I _let_ him."

"Ziva," he says and it is so low; so calming. "Where are you? I want to help."

"I _have_ help," she says. And she sounds so defeated. "Gibbs. McGee. Eleanor. Agent Torres. I have help, Tony. I just need to know that Tali is safe."

"Convening a party without me, huh?" He rises from the couch and gently opens his daughters bedroom door.

Ziva huffs. "Hardly. Gibbs and I are…it is trying."

"Promise you'll tell me all about it?"

"Promise you will not show up at the Navy Yard?"

"We'd be safe there, Ziva." He crosses Tali's room and pulls the shade down just a little bit further.

"I am not so sure. Not with what Adam said."

"Which was?" Tony returns to the doorway – eases the door almost all the way closed.

"Tony…" And it is a reminder. This is not what he – _reluctantly_ – agreed to.

"Okay, okay." He surrenders. He pauses. He knows there is urgency, but he doesn't want to let her go just yet. "The ninja is wearing her Santa pajamas tonight. She made me shine the Menorah – said I shouldn't let pretty things get dirty."

"And she is right."

"I told her I would find some type dust proof box before I put it away."

"Tony, you need to go." She sounds tired – terrified – on the brink of collapse.

"You need to breathe."

She cackles and he doesn't know if she is mocking him or if that was to stifle a sob. "I have not breathed in years."

"Cairo?"

"Cairo," she confirms. She takes a deep breath. "Did I thank you for that?"

"Did I?" he returns.

"I love you both so much," she says. And her voice breaks. He knows it was a sob.

"And Ziva, we love you. I promise I'll keep our girl safe. Just promise me you'll let them keep you safe."

"I will try." She sniffles.

"I will call you from the safe house."

The line goes dead. He wonders how many years it will be until he speaks to her again.

* * *

Tony's safest of safe houses is in the mountains of Vermont. A three-room log cabin, it is deep in the woods – on land owned by a friend he made at FLETC. The two of them built the cabin when they were young federal agents, newly aware of the danger and drain that the job could bring upon them. It started as a place to get away. He supposes that hasn't changed.

Matt uses it frequently – Tony knows this, but he himself has only been up a handful of times since it was built. Matt proposed to his wife there – brings his son up fishing there. Things just didn't pan out for Tony that way.

He tells no one he is headed there. He knows Matt spends the holidays in Michigan with Casey's family.

He quietly packs a bag for Tali – rummaging through her drawers to find her favorite sweaters, her boots, some toys that he knows she always gravitates to. Tony grabs a couple of her Christmas presents from the tree. He has no idea how long they will be there.

Tony's go bag is in the back of his closet. Over the years it has grown from one bag to two. There's one of clothes, first aid essentials, Tali's important documents. The other one was a gift from Ziva. It arrived at his Parisian apartment not long after they returned from Cairo, a small lightweight bag filled with the smallest, but deadliest weapons of her choosing. Part of him is surprised this is his first time using said bag.

He pulls a small European handgun from the bag, screws a silencer on it and slips it into the waistband of his jeans.

Tony slings two bags over his shoulder, leaving one hand to hold on to Tali. They trot down the building back stairs and Tony realizes that while old habits die hard, it is different when you have a five year old with you. Even more different and difficult when you realize that throwing yourself in front of a bullet for her, while life saving, would break her already tender heart.

"Daddy, I'm scared," she says.

Tony pauses from strapping her into her booster seat. He has told her nothing, despite her questions and yet, she is perceptive – much like her mother and so she _knows_ something is wrong. He squeezes her cheek. "Baby girl, there is never a reason to be scared if I'm here. _Never_."

Tony is confident that they are alone – very alone. They arrived at the log cabin four days ago and Tony has since established a perimeter – the lack of fresh snow making it easy for him to check for uninvited visitors.

Tali is, for the most part, settling in well to cabin life. She is amazed by the way the sun shines in through the skylights and enamored by the multiple bunk beds in her room, though she insisted on sleeping with Tony the first two nights. Since then, she has enjoyed having four beds to choose from – though Tony has made her promise that she will only go on the top bunks when they're awake (not that he's been sleeping). She wants to play in the snow, but has accepted his alternatives of hot chocolate, board games and movies.

Tony is hesitant to contact Ziva. Perhaps it is the possibility that he will find out she is dead – gone down in a hail of gunfire, their names on her lips, their faces from that moment in Luxembourg flashing before her eyes. Or perhaps he is worried that contacting her will bring whatever hell she is fighting to this small cabin. There is a closet in the bathroom that Tali could fit in, but wood isn't exactly bulletproof. There are boats that can speak to that.

He sends a secure and coded message to Ziva on the morning of their fifth day in the cabin. Waiting any longer will only delay the inevitable. He might as well set it all in motion – whatever that may be.

Within moments, his phone lights up with her face – the contact photo of her old cell phone. He swears he is seeing a ghost. Tony lunges across the table to grab it.

"You are okay?" she asks.

"Are you?" He is skeptical, but there is a hope seeping through that he just can't control. It's something about that number that reminds him of Saturday afternoon texts that led to Saturday night dinners and Sunday mornings sun soaked in his bed.

"Sahar is dead. It is over."

"_Over_ – over?" he confirms. He opens the front door of the cabin and steps outside. The sun shines off the snow and it nearly blinds him.

"I mean one can never truly be sure –" And he can hear her pacing. He can see her arms moving. He can feel her heart pounding.

"Ziva."

"Yes – I think so."

He blows out a breath. "_Wow_." He thinks he might pass out.

"3 years." She agrees. "It does not seem real."

"A lot of millions counted."

She laughs. "You don't forget anything, do you?" And she seems so much like her old self.

"You don't either, David." Maybe his old self is somewhere in there, too. Somewhere under the fear and heartbreak – the nights in Europe with a toddler. The plane rides with a little girl too accustomed to transience.

"Where are you?" She is impatient. "How long will it take you to return?"

"We're in Vermont." He turns, peaks back in the door – watches for a moment as Tali reads to one of her bears – the fire crackling behind her. "It's… um… kind of nice up here."

"So…"

"_Yes_, _Ziva_ – you should come."

He hears her suck in a breath. "This is the hard part."

"I'm pretty sure we have already done the hard part."

"You are optimistic." She observes.

"I'm not worried about imminently dying in a shootout in front of my five year old," He explains.

"I will come." She agrees.

"Right now?" He slides back in the cabin in time to see Tali gathering her toys and returning them to her little room.

"It is not like I have much to pack."

"We will buy you a sweater."

* * *

It's mid afternoon and Tony has brought Tali a half hour north to the ski resort. They are shopping - really shopping without abandon. So far, Tony has let Tali pick out three sweaters for Ziva, snow pants for all three of them and matching helmets. They're going skiing together, he tells her and the grin she gives him is uniquely DiNozzo-David.

Tali is in the dressing room, trying on snow pants - something he did not think to have her do until the woman at the counter remarked that they were final sale and often look longer in length than they actually are - when an idea pops into his head.

He dials Ziva.

"I am somewhere in New Jersey, Tony," she says. "I have not run away."

"Is that something I should be concerned about?" He asks.

"I just figured that was why you were calling - to make sure I was still coming."

"Well, I am glad to hear you are," he says. And he is earnest. "But I was actually hoping you could stop at my… our apartment in New York - you know pick up Tali's presents, grab the menorah."

"Tonight is the first night of Hanukkah," she breathes.

Tony stutters, "Yeah, yeah - it is so."

"I … I cannot believe I did not realize." And she is suddenly so haunted again - so hollow.

"You've been busy."

"Yes," and then she brushes it off, returns to business. "The menorah and her gifts." She takes a deep breath. "Yes, okay."

"Ziva, you good?" He asks. "Do you want us to come meet you?"

"No, no, Tony. I am fine - really. It is just… overwhelming."

"Yeah," He agrees. We have no expectations, Ziva. We're just excited to see you."

She is silent at his remarks and he worries he has said something wrong, but then she speaks again and he knows that little by little, they will get there.

"You realize I will have to pick your lock."

"Is that something you don't know how to do?"

"Send me the address." And he can hear the smile has returned to her voice.

* * *

"You know I don't like you up there," he calls. It's nearing Tali's bedtime and as he cleans the kitchen table from their pizza crumbs, he catches her sitting on the side of one of the top bunks, face long, legs dangling on the side.

"Why?" She asks. "It's not nighttime." Tali doesn't look up from the spot she is fixated on below her and so he crosses the rooms and climbs up the first few rungs of the ladder.

"Come here," he says. Tony pats flannel comforter. He grabs her under her arms and pulls her into the air, her legs latching around his waist. It's one of his favorite feelings in the world.

"You know," he says and he brings them back into the living room, settling on the couch next to the fire, "When you were little, I used to carry you around like this all the time."

"I know," she says and she has sunk into him, eyes still far off, heart somewhere deeper than a five year old's should be.

"You _do_?" He tickles her stomach, but she says nothing. "Hey," he says, "Tali, what's wrong."

She shakes her head, burying it deeper into his chest. Tony sighs and runs his hands through his hair.

"Are you...maybe nervous to see Ima?" He's hesitant to put the idea into her head if she's not, but he can't think of any other reason she would go from gushing with excitement about skiing and the impending six inches of snow forecasted for tomorrow at the dinner table to this sad little girl curled into his arms.

She shrugs - stays silent before murmuring. "What if she has to go away again?"

Tony nods. He cannot believe what his daughter has been exposed to in her short life. He's tried to be stable, happy, even, but he's also had to explain some difficult concepts to her. He can't imagine they have been easy to comprehend.

"That's a good question," he tells her. "I know Ima is going to do everything she can to stay with you from now on, but even if one of us has to go away sometime, we'll always make sure one of us is here with you too."

"I don't want you to go away," she tells him.

Tony chuckles, "Tali-too, I don't plan to ever go away. Being with you is my favorite place."

Tali twists her lips and buries her head in the couch.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He asks her.

She perks up a little - nods.

"I'm nervous to have Ima come home, too." He's not sure if he should be telling his five year old this, but he also has a thing against dishonesty. It's a byproduct of his childhood, some of his undercover work at NCIS and, well, the first two years of his daughter's life.

"It's complicated what's happening," he continues, "so it's okay to be unsure, but that's why we have each other." Tony runs his hand down her hair. Tali's overly mature emotions have always been something that both amaze and terrify him. At four years old, she was making off handed comments about the feelings in _Inside Out_.

Tali remains silent and so he keeps talking. "You can always tell me how you feel."

She nods. "You're not scared," she says.

"No?" he asks.

"Nothing scares you, Daddy."

"That's because I have you." He kisses the side of her head and pulls her close.

"Daddy," she asks, "Will Ima like it here?"

"With us?" He lifts her chin, "What's not to like? We're going to go skiing, it's Hanukkah, it's going to snow, then it'll be Christmas."

Her head whips around. "Can we play in the snow?" Her eyes light up.

Tony laughs and most of the tension seeps from his body. Though she may be mature, though she may deal with emotional far greater than her age, she is still is silly little girl. He tickles her, "Yes, we're going to play in the snow."

She plants her hands on the side of his face, "And have a snowball fight like in Elf?" She is teased up with excitement.

"I don't know," he feigns hesitation. "You throw pretty hard. Maybe if Ima's on my team."

The father daughter pair, the other dynamic duo that Tony will never understand how he is so lucky to be a part of, chats on the couch for the rest of the night, awaiting Ziva's arrival. Eventually, Tali falls asleep, her arms curled around a pillow, much like she did the first night they were together.

Tony throws a blanket over her and moves to the front door. He peeks through the window and his breath catches in his throat when he realizes there's a car idling in the driveway. Ziva at the helm.

* * *

She is nervous. Truly terrified - more so than she has ever been in her entire life - through firefights, hostage situations, torture, heartbreak and abandonment - nothing has scared her quite like getting out of this car does.

She has been sitting in here, a rented Ford Explorer, for close to ten minutes. Ziva is surprised she has made it this far. She has had more than eight hours to herself in the car and that's been time enough to conjure countless scenes of Tony and Tali regretting the day they ever agreed to take her back. She is, after all, a monster. It has been less than a week since she made a child an orphan. She was somewhere in New York when she actually had to pull over to catch her breath and compose herself.

Perhaps all of this was a mistake.

The tap on her window breaks her from her trance and she can't help but whip around, gun leveling at the man at her window.

Tony just lifts an eyebrow at her. "Come all this way just to shoot me?" he asks.

Her head thuds back against the headrest and she slides the gun back into her hip holster. Habits - they are hard to break. "Tony," she breathes, eyes closed.

He opens her door and she flickers an eye open, Tony's arm rests atop the door and he levels her with a cautious, but easy smile. "Ziva," he returns.

"I … I do not know what to say. I had eight hours and I … came up with nothing."

"_Hello_ works fine. _Good evening_ if you want to be formal."

She laughs at him, because he has always made things easy enough for her, despite everything. So she unclips her seatbelt, grabs the bags from her passenger seat and stands before him. She hesitates and then launches herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck.

"We did it." Because holding onto him, feeling him all around her, knowing it is just the two of them - it allows her to breathe for the first time in years.

It's Tony's turn to laugh now. "Yes, _you_ did." He pulls her closer, kissing the side of her head. She leans into him. "I'm not dreaming, right?" He confirms.

"I can pinch you," She offers. Ziva leans back and stares at him. She has seen him from afar several times since Luxembourg, but never up close. Yes, he has aged - she knows she's had a part in that, but the glint in his eyes is bright as ever. He seems so hopeful.

Ziva leans up and brushes her lips against his. Tony smiles into her - kisses her back, hand winding its way through her hair. She doesn't know how she's gone so long without tasting him; without feeling him against her. He moves from her lips, kisses the side of her mouth, her nose.

"Come inside," he whispers. "Your Israeli blood can't handle this."

"I have missed many winters as of late."

Ziva pauses at the back of the car and pulls another bag from the hatch - the lamps of the Menorah sticking out from the top. She hands it to Tony and then follows him to the cabin.

Tony pauses them in the doorway and turns to her. "She's asleep on the couch," he whispers, head nodding to the little form curled in a ball.

Ziva nods though she suddenly feels lightheaded. The room is warm, the fire crackling - she hasn't been in a place like this in so long.

Ziva drops the bags and moves towards the couch. Squatting before her daughter, she hesitates before she reaches and delicately, almost imperceptibly runs a hands down the little girl's hair.

She is so much bigger than she remembered. Her curls are so long. Her hands are so much bigger; her shoulders so much broader. Such a girl - no longer a baby.

Tali squirms, opens an eye. "Ima?" she asks, voice clouded.

"Yes, love," Ziva responds, voice low. "I am here."

Tali rubs her eyes. "You came back." It is both a question and a statement. She is surprised and understanding. Tali sits up, before diving towards Ziva, arms wrapping around her neck.

Ziva's eyes begin to water. "I did, tateleh. I did." She holds onto to Tali, a warmth engulfing her soul. Ziva kisses the side of her head. "I am so happy to see you, Tali."


End file.
